Miracle
by badriddance
Summary: Rorschach/robot. Written for a kinkmeme prompt. The robot turned out to be a cyber Dan, because I'm a sucker for that pairing now. First M-rated fic ever posted by me.


__________________________________________________________

Written for the kinkmeme. The original prompt was for Rorschach and a robot. The only way I could get my brain around that is if the robot was Dan.

__________________________________________________________

The only heat and sound came from him. He curled against the sleek metal, clutching it with filthy fingers and leaving misty handprints on it. His breath misted on it, too. He was grateful for that. It helped obscure his reflection as he panted and gasped against the steel. Gradually, the metal warmed against his body. It would never feel like skin, but as the heat sank deeper into the metal, it did stir a response from somewhere inside the machine.

Rorschach hadn't meant for it to come to this. He had been so desperate to prove to both of them that underneath all the metal, Dan was still human that he had instigated- had allowed- I_this/I._ His shoulder blades grated against the wall with each thrust. His fingernails slid over Dan's new skin, finding no purchase until they caught on the overlapping jointed plates covering what was left of his spine.

_It had been a bomb, and they hadn't seen it until it was a second away from too late. Nite Owl had thrown himself down on it, screaming for _Rorschach_ to duck. The blast had torn him in half, spraying his partner and most of the room in his blood. The red splatter had seemed so hot, and it was the last heat to come from Dan. He had lain cold and pale for nearly a year until the surgeries started to work and the 'augmentations' had finally been accepted by what remained of his flesh. _

The unyielding grip around his upper body tightened fractionally. Even through the daze he was in, the heat sending so much ink swirling across his face that he could barely see anymore, the thought that he had provoked a response was thrilling. As his body heat was leeched into the works, he could hear the whisper of a stunned groan from the speaker. "Rorschach…" His name. Uttered like a prayer from the depths of a machine, where he was sure, the best of men was still clinging to humanity.

If this is what it took to bring that humanity to the surface, if it was the warmth Dan needed to revive inside the cold layers, then Rorschach could bear it. He let his head loll back, feeling the back of the mask bunch and wrinkle against the wall. One of the hands pinning him so effortlessly (it was the one with the retractable blades, he remembered vaguely) slid up between his head and the wall, cushioning it. The grip was still steady and unbreakable as a vise, but the gesture was tender enough to wring a sob out of him.

_After his initial recovery, Dan had been interested in his new body, adding on to it, making adjustments and improvements. As time went by, he had become more and more concerned with efficiency above all else. The friendly chatter stopped. The creative inventing stopped. Too often, he said and did exactly no more than was required. It had disturbed _Rorschach_, to see his partner go from passionate for their cause to a barely responsive observer. The thought of losing Nite Owl to the same dispassionate logic as Dr. Manhattan had grated. What was the point of him living, surviving, if the part that mattered withered away inside the shell? He had tried to explain that and they had ended up arguing._

"_Not just a machine," he had growled, punching the steel chest hard enough to rock the new Nite Owl back on his heels. "Still feel things. Still want things." _

"…_.Yes." The voice that was enough like Dan's old one to be a torment had rumbled from the speaker in the throat where the pulse point used to be. "But. Like this? Who would want anything back? Not enough left of me for anyone else."_

"_Enough for who?" Rorschach had raged at him, hitting him again. "Miracle not to lose you! And there's no such thing as miracles." His anger did seem to surprise the metal man, even though he knew the blow didn't hurt. Nite Owl had reported being aware of vibrations in his mechanical parts that almost counted for sensation, but pain wasn't one of the things he felt anymore. Both fists slammed into his shoulders. "Nearly lost you to death." The fury faded from his voice and he leaned his head forward against the chest. There wasn't a pulse in it anymore, just the faint swish of working parts. "Don't want to lose you to this." _

Dan's voice was broken and strained though the speaker, but his movements were perfectly controlled. Mechanical. Precise. He had Rorschach pinned between his metal chest and the brick wall. Had methodically stimulated him so silently and utterly that he had to wonder how much thought Dan had given this beforehand. How else could he be hitting the exact right spots exactly right? As if this was something he had done before, or at least carefully planned, tying Rorschach into moaning knots while stretching it out indefinitely.

Rorschach couldn't even remember how this had started, or how it had gotten this far. As a challenge? As a confession? The metal had been cold when it first entered him, but it was as warm as he was now, moving in a relentless, burning rhythm. He wondered what Dan could feel of this. The thought that this was just for his benefit, that Dan would do this just to appease or comfort him when he had intended it to be for Dan was mortifying.

He forced his eyes open to see the smooth mask that Dan kept down all the time now. There was still one real eye behind the left lens in the mask. If the light was right and he squinted, he could see it. Like this though, at this angle, all he could see was his own blurry reflection. He could see his face billowing over his mouth from the force of his panting and couldn't help but push it up over his nose to press his uncovered mouth against Dan's metal-covered one.

An entirely human sound rattled out of the speaker at that, and it was enough to break whatever thread was holding Rorschach together. He spasmed and wailed as the world went as white as lightning. He didn't have room to thrash, still sandwiched between steel and brick, but Dan held him tightly enough that he didn't crack his head against the wall. When he fell shuddering back into his own body, he slowly became aware of his own limbs again and heard his own hiccupping breathing.

Even more slowly, he became aware of a new sound coming from within the steel body pressed against his own. There was a thrum vibrating there, like a Laundromat dryer heard through the floor, or an especially pleased mechanical cat. While he struggled to decide what it could be, he felt the hand pillowing his head stroke a thumb through his hair, and the metal mask, shockingly cold after the warmed parts, ducked to press against his cheek.

"Miracle," came the electronic voice in as close to a dreamy murmur as it could, and even if wasn't able to actually say so, Rorschach was tempted to agree.


End file.
